


Fate’s Second Chance

by Glass_Stars



Category: Macbeth - Shakespeare
Genre: All Hail AU, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fleance needs a hug, M/M, Malcolm and Macduff adopt Fleance basically, One Shot, m/m relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glass_Stars/pseuds/Glass_Stars
Summary: Fleance finds his way back to the palace and Malcolm has some decisions to make.This is because if Fleance wasn’t prophesied to become King and Malcolm didn’t admit that he’s a virgin and Macduff didn’t loose his family and suffer guilt just so he and Malcolm could raise Fleance together, then I don’t know what the point of the novel was.
Relationships: Fleance & Macduff (Macbeth), Fleance & Malcolm (Macbeth), Macduff/Malcolm
Comments: 7
Kudos: 25





	Fate’s Second Chance

“My King, we have found someone for you,” Seyton called to him. 

Malcolm looked up from his desk, observing the servant’s big eyes and surprised expression. “For me?” Malcolm frowned, and stood up from the table. “I didn’t have any meetings today.” 

“I know, my King,” Seyton said quickly. “But this isn’t a guest. It’s a boy.” 

Malcolm stared at him.  _A boy? What on earth is he talking about? _the King wondered. “Very well,” he said aloud. “Take me to him, please.” 

Seyton dipped his head, and Malcolm set his papers aside and followed him down the painted vestibule into the the Great Hall. Malcolm nodded in acknowledgement to the guards who opened the doors when Seyton started speaking. 

“I just have to tell you, Your Majesty, he came to us,” Seyton told him. “I don’t know what you plan to do with him... the boy’s return will cause quite a stir among our citizens, but I’m sure that you will make the right decision.” 

“Please, enough with the pronouns,” Malcolm replied dryly as they entered. “I just want to know-“ then he saw the boy and immediately recognized his pale hair and blue eyes. His eyes widened and jaw dropped.

“Fleance!” He cried, rushing to Banquo’s son. He dropped to his knees and held the boy’s face in his hands, searching his dull, nervous blue gaze. “Where have you been, young one?” He asked in shock. “We looked and looked, but we couldn’t find you-! Seyton, go get Macduff,” he ordered the servant without waiting for Fleance’s response. Seyton nodded hastily and rushed out of the room. Malcolm turned back to Fleance, shock still running hot under his skin. 

Before he could say anything, the boy spoke first. “Macbeth had my father killed,”Fleance whispered, and he looked up at Malcolm with an anguished blue gaze. 

Malcolm’s heart ached. “Yes, he did,” he replied softly. “But Macbeth is gone, and your father was avenged.” 

Fleance’s expression darkened. “Good. I hope that devil rots in Hell.” Then his blue eyes shimmered and he flinched away from Malcolm’s embrace and stared down at his scratched hands. 

Malcolm noticed as he did the fine scar on the boy’s cheek, and he felt a stab of anger and grief. “Do you want to sit down?” He asked gently. 

Fleance nodded silently and drifted over to the table, where he sat down and looked at the wall with a blank stare. 

Malcolm was at a loss for comforting words. He had seen Fleance many times when Banquo brought him along for quiet visits or brief parties. Fleance had always been shy and quiet around strangers, but Malcolm easily saw the boy’s noble father in his fine features, light hair, thoughtful expression and calming, easy presence. 

Now Fleance reminded him more of Macbeth- there was a lost look in his eyes, his face was hollow and his blue gaze shattered. He had a tense aura, but also looked so unimaginably broken and scared that Malcolm’s heart ached for him. 

Banquo had raised Fleance alone- Malcom had never heard the good warrior speak of Fleance’s mother except in brief, sharp words that didn’t invite conversation. Malcolm knew what it was like to loose a father, and he knew the exact heartbreak and betrayal he was hit by when he found out Macbeth had been the traitor. 

Malcolm heard the quick, light thud of boots on the polished floor and he turned. 

“My King?” Macduff inquired as he entered the room, and Malcom’s heart flipped as it always did when meeting Macduff’s bright hazel eyes. “You called for me...” his voice trailed off as his gaze landed on Fleance, and a stricken expression flashed upon his face. 

Malcolm darted to his side and placed a steadying hand on the man’s shoulder, recognizing the grief that had caused him to falter. 

“Banquo’s son,” Macduff rasped, leaning instinctively into Malcolm’s touch. 

“Macbeth tried to kill him as he did his father,” Malcolm reminded him. “But we know Fleance had no part in the murder.” 

Macduff was still staring at Fleance as if the blonde boy was a ghost, but Malcolm knew he  was seeing spirits- that of his own family, whose lives had been sacrificed when Macduff left them to go assemble the rebellion. 

“I can’t send him away,” Malcolm murmured to him. “He has no one to turn to.” 

Macduff blinked hard, then gave him a sharp look. “You’re going to keep him in the castle?” He asked in surprise. 

Malcolm didn’t flinch from his doubt. “Yes,” he replied calmly. “The boy has gone through suffering akin to ours, and he is so much younger. Who knows what other pain he went through, trying to live by himself with nothing but his father’s blood in his nightmares?” 

Macduff hesitated, then looked back over at Fleance. 

The boy was sitting on the stairs and swinging his legs, his hollow blue gaze on his fidgeting hands, and a pink scar traced slightly above his jaw like a reminder of Macbeth’s sins. He looked fragile, like the faintest nudge would cause him to collapse. 

Macduff shivered, and Malcolm could tell that his friend didn’t disapprove of his choice, but rather was fearful of how the boy’s presence would affect him. 

“I wouldn’t ever leave him, either,” Macduff finally sighed. “Turning him away would be as cruel as ripping him from Banquo.” 

He looked over Malcolm, curiosity warm in his gaze. “Will you train him as an apprentice?” He asked. 

Now it was Malcolm’s turn to fight from flustering. “Well, actually, my dear friend, I was thinking of... caring for him,” he confessed shyly. “I can see the broken spirit in him, and I want to help heal him. He is still young, and with Banquo resting, he still needs guidance. I think I can get through to him, and perhaps he can still grow up wise and compassionate. But...” he forced himself to meet Macduff’s hazel eyes and managed to say, “I would appreciate it if you helped.” 

Macduff’s expression turned from thoughtful to shocked in a heartbeat. “Like... like another father?” He stammered. 

When Malcolm nodded, Macduff flinched away. “No no no, I can’t do that,” he rambled, his gaze darting around like a terrified animal’s. “My family was  _slaughtered_ because of me. I- I can’t let that happen to anyone else I care about. No, it’s better if I just... leave...” 

“Don’t say such things!” Malcolm exclaimed, sympathy and pain battling hotly in his chest. “You are  _not_ to be blamed for anyone’s deaths, do you hear? _Macbeth_ is the one who killed them, not you! 

Please Macduff,” he said more softly as he saw the thane hesitate and look at him with imploring hazel eyes. Malcolm stepped closer, and felt a surge of relief and hope as Macduff didn’t recoil. “I need you,” he whispered. He nodded to Fleance. “ _He_ needs you. Fleance’s return can only be a sign from fate: we’re being given another chance to right Macbeth’s wrongs, and to bring peace to our troubled souls and to those that we lost.” 

Macduff’s light gaze was brimming with emotion, and Malcolm saw the hope struggle against grief in his face. Then Macduff smiled, and shaky as it was Malcolm was nearly knocked off his feet with relief. “I believe that you are right,” Macduff confessed. “I think that by caring for Fleance, my sorrow may not disappear, but maybe my guilt can be eased.” 

Malcolm smiled encouragingly at him. “You don’t need to leave them behind,” he agreed, “but maybe you can forgive yourself and move forwards with them.” 

Macduff nodded, and Malcolm felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had been feeling Macduff’s burden of pain like his own, and he was delighted that his friend could finally come to even ground with his ghosts. 

_And maybe we can embark on_ our _next chapter, too,_ he admitted his desire to himself. Just the thought made his heart race with hope. 

_Of course,_ he reminded himself,  _this is all if Fleance agrees..._


End file.
